Rose-colored glasses

A year ago today, I boarded a plane headed for Tanzania.  I had no idea what I'd find.  I didn't even know where I was going to sleep when I got there.  That was the adventure I craved.

My time there was life-changing, because I've never lived in a world where everything was an adventure.  A trip to get groceries meant a mile walk, hanging onto the side of a dala dala (bus) for dear life while the pavement raced beneath me, bartering in Swahili with a local for pennies worth of delicious produce.  The children I worked with had diseases I had only ever read about in books.  But now I have seen rheumatic heart disease, rabies, and pediatric AIDS.

I had every target on my back: Single. White. Woman.  And yet I approached my life there confidently (and only sometimes with reckless abandon).  I have never lived so simply.  It's a true test of flexibility to forego all of the luxuries of Western culture.  And yet, I'd love to live without them again.

I miss the beauty of my surroundings: Kilimanjaro peeking out of the clouds, flowers blooming on every tree, the amazing fruits and vegetables that were picked straight from the trees, the feeling of Karibu and the sweet nature of all of the Tanzanians.

I miss Dana.  Happy friendiversary!!!!

I don't know if I'll ever make it back to Moshi, Tanzania, but that's okay because I live out the lessons I learned there every day in my life here.  Karibu, work hard, be present in your community, provide resources, care for the children like they were your own.

Worth my weight in beer nuts

Here is a conversation that I had at work last week. It totally made my day and made me miss Tanzania.

me: (Walking into room where a known Swahili speaker is waiting) Karibu! Habari z'asubuhi?

mama: Nzuri. Habari?

me: Nzuri sana. Pole mama.

mama: Asante.

me: Mimi ni daktari. Jina langu ni Rebecca. Na wewe?

mama: (states name)

me: Mtoto nzuri sana. Aya shida leo?

mama: (now thinking that I understand Swahili) aasfd l j;kae roifs soja ;jokvz mlksd l mvsz ldljfoiku sl;kkjafpokaf ;l a al;adf l jreojfc;lkj fe;o f oijfa hlksedl jkfa ;lj f fljfewoijeopmjn

me: (turning to the physician whose patient it was) you're going to need the interpreter phone.

My new Swahili vernacular

When I got off the plane two months ago, the only Swahili I knew was "Jambo!" My TZ friends are quite impressed with how far it has come in such a short time and I have found that certain words and phrases and snuck their way into my speech. I figured I would give ya'll a quick dictionary lesson so that when I get home and I still have TZ on the brain, you can understand what I'm trying to say.

GREETINGS:
Jambo (Response: Jambo)- Hello!
Mambo (Response: Poa)- a casual hello!
Habari- How are you?
... za asubuhi- How is your morning? (Response: nzuri- good)
... za mchana- How is your afternoon? (Response: safi- literally means clean... you would understand the importance of being clean if you rode the dala dala or washed your feet after a day of tromping through mud/dust)
... za jioni- How is your evening? (Response: salama- peaceful)
Usiku mwema- Good night!
Lala salama- Sleep well! (literally "peaceful sleep")
Kwaheri- bye!
Shikamuu (Response: Marahaba) - literally "I lie at your feet" is said as a greeting to elders as a sign of respect.
Hamna shida- No problem (the equivalent of Kenya's "hakunah matata" which I'm sure you all know from The Lion King)

Other words:
dala dala- bus
asante- thank you
sana- very
pole- sorry
karibu- welcome
who- nani
what- nini
when- lini
where- wapi
why- kwahili
really- kweli
ndizi- bananas... mmmmm
embe- mango... mmmmm

That should enable you to understand my Southern Swahili when I get home.

Kwaheri!!!

Karibu

I love the way Swahili uses "karibu" as a welcoming word. It means both "welcome" and "you're welcome". Tanzanians do not wait for someone to say "thank you" before they pronounce "Karibu!", which makes it more of an offering to the guest rather than an obligation.
I walk around town or KCMC and hear, "Karibu mzungu!" to welcome me to Tanzania. I walk into a shop or someone's home and I hear another karibu to welcome me to buy something or to feel at home. As food is placed on the table, a karibu is offered to tell me to enjoy the delicious meal.
In the Carson house we say "Proud to serve." I think the word "karibu" sums up that mentality perfectly.